


A Cat Named Dewey

by perhapsless



Category: In the Bleak Midwinter (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, AU where everything is fine and normal, F/M, Multi, No Apocalypse, blame the Server (tm) for this, but u never know, no love triangles here no sir, ok not in this series maybe, relevant parties are still cyborgs tho, sir it's my emotional support au, these are all separate AUs, this is my sfw series, we make good use of that carbon titanium jaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29440884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perhapsless/pseuds/perhapsless
Summary: The Server (available for ITBMW patreons) came up with an emotional support before-the-war AU. This is just my little drabbles and warm-ups with it until I get around to writing something more substantial.All ships are AU from each other because, and I reiterate, this is my emotional support AU. This is where I go when everything else is too sad.Anyega drabbles: Omega's part of the Ten and doesn't need to work, but he gets bored. He owns a book store called The Book Store and it's mostly just books he specifically likes. He doesn't believe in the soul mark on his wrist, but the pretty nurse that comes by on her breaks does, and she also thinks his cat should be named Dewey.Deltanya drabbles: Anya doesn't have a soul marker, but she has a very good-looking Chief of Medicine that's taken an interest in her. Off the books, of course. It starts as [redacted], it turns into something more.Ivanya drabbles: Anya finds Misha lost in the park and meets his cute brother. Ivan's been careful not to look for anything serious for Misha's sake, so it fits that Misha picks out the love of his life for him.
Relationships: Anya/Delta, Anya/Ivan, Anya/Omega, Delta/Anya, Ivan/Anya, Omega/Anya
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Idiot Sandwich- Anyega

He’s making dinner already, he says.

Yes, he can feed himself, he says.

She tips the boiled chicken into a dish and shreds it, setting it on the floor for Dewey. Dewey at least seems appreciative, a little pile of bright orange fluff by her feet, as she sets about attempting to repurpose what she supposes were meant to be hardboiled eggs. Eggs are meant to have orange yolks, though, not grey, so she chucks them in the bin, shaking her head. 

The man has boiled potatoes, eggs, and chicken in the same pot. For hours, if the coloring is anything to go by. She can’t help but giggle a little, endeared by the one thing Omega apparently can’t do. She was beginning to think he’d read about everything. 

It’s about two hours later when Omega slinks in, slowly folding up his shirt sleeves. He peers over the pots on the stove, one cooking borscht, the other seasoned cabbage. 

“There’s beef and potatoes in the oven,” Anya calls over her shoulder. She’s slicing fresh black bread, salted butter by her elbow. 

“I told you I was cooking,” he says churlishly behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. She whips around, laughing already as she’s reminded of the grey mass he’s deemed ‘food’. 

“You live like that? Your brother can cook, it’s not just an android thing. You willfully choose to eat that?”  
He shrugs, grinning despite himself at her indignant expression. “Protein. Starches. It counts.” 

“It does not,” she retorts slowly, “Count. As anything. At all. I fed it to Dewey-“

“-Not his name-“ 

“And I just can’t fathom how you’re this useless in the kitchen,” she continues regardless as he sneaks a slice of bread from behind her. “Did you know that you only had about four spices in your cabinets?”

  
“Well, that’s just patently untrue,” he says, releasing her to dip the bread into the borscht. She grabs a spoon and smacks the back of his hand to very little reaction. “Most ramen come with little seasoning packets. Efficient.” 

He’s going to be the death of her. 

“It’s decided,” she declares, “I’m taking over your kitchen.”


	2. An Abundance of Caution- Deltanya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya is concerned that their little trysts are getting to her heart. Delta's plan is going well until she gets scared.

You 09:56 AM: I don't think we should do this anymore. It's getting messy.

Delta [Eggplant emoji] [Male doctor emoji] 09:58 AM: Is that so?

You 10:05 AM: It's nothing personal. I'm just looking out for myself. I see where this is goi-

She erases the last message.

You 10:05 AM: It's nothing personal. Clean break.

Delta [Eggplant emoji] [Male doctor emoji] 10:07 AM: We'll see about that.

.......................

"Tell me, Anya," he murmurs in passing, "Do you really expect to move past me that quickly?" 

She doesn't answer, her fists balling up at her sides, and she hears his laughter like a curse all the way down the hallway.

.......................

Delta [Eggplant emoji] [Male doctor emoji] 01:15 PM: I didn't take you for a coward. 

........................

She’s irritated. She’s _so_ fucking irritated. She texted him all of four hours ago and here he already is, devilish smirk lazily in place on his stupid handsome fucking face, leaning against the doorway like it was built as his own personal chaise. 

Dickhead. 

He’s still her boss’s boss’s boss, though, so rather than vocalizing some rather colorful adages about where exactly he can stick his annoyingly high end stethoscope (that he _clearly_ only wears for show), she turns on her heel and whisks away to the pharmacy shelves. 

He tuts. “Anya, I wouldn’t have taken you for someone to run away.” 

_Probably because you don’t_ know _me,_ she thinks bitterly, and continues looking for Tyson’s pheno. Evidently nobody in this unit can alphabetize, and she makes a mental note to redo the shelves at the end of her shift.

And then she freezes. Because he’s silently, catlike, crossed the pharm and is directly behind her, towering a good head and shoulders above. His hand reaches the shelf far above her, quickly and elegantly plucking a bottle. And then he gets far closer than necessary, his arm almost wrapped around her, his chest to her back. He bends down so his mouth is near her ear, his breath hot against the sensitive skin at her jaw. 

“Looking for something?” 

The air between them is fraught, hot and electric like the air just before a lightning storm. She’s irritated and embarrassed by his effect on her, his scent wrapping around her like a caress. 

Trying desperately to fight the blush she knows is spreading across her cheeks, she takes the pill bottle. Tyson MacMichael, 0.5 mg phenobarbital. Naturally. 

He chuckles, the noise smooth and deep and fucking taunting in her ear. “See? My little wildcat isn’t so untamable after all.” He grips her arm before she can whirl around, and the tip of his finger, ever so innocently, strokes along the outside of her breast. 

At least she’s triumphant in holding back a shiver. 

“Careful, kitten,” he warns, his voice taking on that authoritative tone that only serves to make her melt in his bed. “As much as I enjoy you.... not in public. At least,” and then his lips ghost along the shell of her ear, “Not _here_.” 

Heat rises through her abdomen, and she refuses to speak, to give him the satisfaction. 

He already seems satisfied, though, because he laughs softly again, his length pressing against her back briefly. “Good girl.” And then he’s gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> delta catching feelings is my favorite trope tbh


	3. Mama Nurse- Ivanya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crackheadery from the Server; Misha's teachers keep calling disciplinary meetings just to ogle his hot older brother. Caught up at work, he sends his girlfriend one day and the meetings mysteriously stop.

They’re sitting outside in the early May evening, eating ice cream for dinner because Anya’s in a Mood and Misha is cashing in on it with pleasure. He’s babbling on and on about how cool it was when Anya yelled at the principal and she’s stabbing her waffle pieces with particular vengeance. Unprofessional assholes.

The slam of a car door by the curb jolts her out of her reverie, and she looks over her shoulder to see Ivan walking towards them, a quizzical expression on his lips. He grins when he makes eye contact, and her heart stutters, just a moment. 

He’s just so fucking _pretty_. 

He pulls a seat out and swivels it around, straddling it like he’s a Cool Teacher in an 80s movie, and she has to laugh. He leans his chin down against his forearms, his ginger curls falling into his eyes.

“So how’d it go?”

“Anya told the principal that she _wasn’t fit to lead a dog kennel_ , let along a school,” Misha pipes up happily, and she winces. Ivan bursts out laughing and swipes a fingerful of her ice cream.

“So pretty much how I figured it would go? Perfect.” 

“Those…. _cretins_ ,” she begins disdainfully, “Are wasting education time and blaming it on a perfectly good kid! Because they have a little crush!” She’s fuming, and Ivan’s shoulders are shaking with mirth. 

“Misha’s fine, relax, Freckles,” he manages between cackles, “He knows they’re fulla shit. Right, Meesh?”

Misha nods definitively. “They just like Ivan’s butt,” he says bluntly, and Anya blushes. 

“Anya does too,” Ivan says conspiratorially, “She just behaves. Isn’t that right, Freckles?”

He doesn’t even flinch when she stomps on his foot. Asshole. 


	4. Simple Favors - Anyega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega gets one (1) daddy point.

She usually hates this time of the month. 

Two years nursing school, one year residency, two years clinical, and two years in the practice. She’ll never pay these off. 

She sighs, the familiar pit in her stomach twisting as she gets ready to read the multi digit number on the screen. 

And then she doesn’t.

She blinks, refreshing repeatedly as the numbers stubbornly stay where they are, reminding her all too much of the ones on her wrist. 

00.00 

He didn’t. 

The last message- _thank you for your payment._

Well over 60,000 dollars. 

It’s.... 

She clasps her hand to her mouth, blinking furiously as the screen goes blurry. _He didn’t._ She knows the Ten are wealthy, she knows he really just runs his bookstore out of boredom, but...

_He didn’t._

Twenty anxious, heart-pounding minutes later, and she’s peering up at a shock of very messy white hair. He’s looming above her, rubbing his eyes, bare chested and confused. His voice is still thick with sleep. 

“It’s before ten. I’m going back to bed. You’re welcome to jo-“ 

And he’s cut off by her lips almost immediately, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist. She feels him grin boyishly against her mouth, closing the door behind her. “I can be awake for that. Good morning.” 

“You _didn’t_.” She starts. He blinks at her, still bleary, and then his HUD lights up. 

“Ah,” as understanding dawns, and he shrugs. “I did. Happy Friday. Sleep now.” 

She stares at him, uncomprehending, and he gives one of her wayward strands a tug. “You seemed stressed yesterday. Now you’re not.” He says it as simply and calmly as if he had helped her belt a dresser. 

She stares another moment, then sheds her shoes and jacket. And then continues shedding clothing on the way to his room, smilingly slightly to herself as his steps pick up pace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pure 100% self indulgent fluff. no excuses. u ever think about how much softer omega probably was before the war?


	5. Big Kids- Ivanya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They just keep running into each other.

"So...what, are you stalking me now?" 

Ivan's head jerks up from the floor to see a familiar blonde standing in front of him, her hand holding the elevator door open for him. She's dressed casually, and possibly in the best possible way to drive him insane: there's not a man on earth immune to the power of tank tops and yoga pants. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, a tendril escaping and wrapping around her collarbone.

She looks amazing, so it takes him a second to form human speech. 

"This is my job, so I think that makes you the stalker. Nice attempt at deflecting, though," he adds, stepping in next to her. 

She tilts her head to the side, a small smile playing around on her lips. "It's okay, mom. I can make it on my first day of school just fine. I'm a big girl, tie my own shoes and everything." 

He's going to kill Misha, but he can't help but laugh. "I prefer Daddy." 

The elevator is just a little too close, now, and he realizes that was perhaps ever so slightly forward. The rosy blush that spreads over her freckles is worth it, though. 

She reaches out, tweaks his collar straight, and his heart catches in his throat. "Not sure you're up to the task of earning that one, Ivan. Going up?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this comes after their meeting, which is basically Anya running into Misha in a park and asking where his mom is, and Misha being a little evil genius. pretty lady? let's embarrass big brother by leaping into his arms and crying 'mommy!!!' 
> 
> ivan still gets her number, though. who's laughing now?


	6. Galbi Jjim - Deltanya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delta catches feelings, and Anya has no idea what to do about it.

Strange behavior. 

She can’t quite pinpoint when it begins, can’t determine what it was that she does that changes everything. She’s not even sure how long ago it begins, only that one day she wakes up and she’s soundly in the middle of it.

He promises, when this all starts, that this was always going to be no-strings-attached. He draws out a promise from her lips in his bed, that she won’t look for far into it, that she’s getting from him the same he’s getting from her and that after the sweat and shared breaths, she leaves.

She never spends the night, and neither does he.

Until.

Until he wraps an arm around her waist as she moves to leave and whispers _stay_ , his hair in disarray, his eyes sleepy, lips finding her hair when she settles back into his hold.

Until he shows up to her apartment when she takes a sick day with her favorite soup from the Korean place across the city and doesn’t leave her side for the weekend.

Until he steps in the shower behind her, his hands gentle as he massages shampoo through her hair, his hands exploring her body, not to touch, but to _feel_. 

Until he takes her to a private box for the Chinese opera and she’s curled into his lap, his lips tasting of the red wine he’s ordered for her- _he doesn’t even like this one-_ and she realizes, his hands lazily tracing patterns on her back, what’s happening.

She’s being romanced.

She’s not sure what to do with this information. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 shades of delta lmfao


	7. Scenes From a Local Book Store, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another squabble. Omega doesn't know it yet but he's whipped.

  
Sometimes, in her quieter moments, she thinks she might like Dewey more than her own cat. 

Well, his name is _Earnest_ , but it just doesn’t fit. His long orange hair is always perfectly groomed, his paws round and rotund like mittens, his big green eyes just a few shades lighter than her own. He seems like the sort that would have freckles and dimples, not a terrible moustache and a comb-over. 

His name is Dewey, no matter what Omega has to say about it. 

She’s perched in her favorite seat by the table in the window with a cup of coffee- perfectly brewed as always, but _besmirched_ with cream and sugar, to Omega’s disgust- and Dewey has wisely chosen her lap over his. His voice comes from behind her, smooth and deep, and with the distinct irritated tone that only barely fails to conceal his amusement. She bites back a grin.

“Is this a common occurrence for you? Do you regularly go around naming cats that don’t belong to you?”

“Yes,” she responds solemnly. “It’s actually one of my favorite hobbies, listed on my tinder profile. I also enjoy destroying coffee and being a general nuisance, if you were wondering.” 

He drops lazily into the chair next to her, his own cup of coffee in a crimson coffee mug. “I was wondering, actually. You should add having terrible taste in literature,” he amends, glancing disdainfully at her current choice- Jack Kerouac. “Really, Anya, I didn’t take you for a tenth grader. I suppose that explains your stature.” 

Dewey meows, stretching in her lap, and she nods. “Agreed, Dewey. He’s an idiot.” 

“Charming.” 

“Don’t tell me, let me guess: it didn’t age well, and it’s incredibly dated, and the prose reads more like a teenage diary than it does a work of high literature?”

He raises an eyebrow at her, drinking deep from his mug. She thinks he must taste like coffee and bagels, because that’s 90% of his diet from what she can tell. 

“So you’re aware that choosing to read this in your free time is equivalent to drinking from a K-cup machine?”

“I like my K-cup machine. It lets me make pumpkin spice lattes at home.” She isn’t disappointed by his reaction, he all but slams his coffee down and _groans_ , leaning back and slinging an arm over his eyes.

“I don’t know what’s worse. Your taste or your _awareness_ of your own-” 

“No, I still hold that On the Road isn’t bad,” she interrupts. “I mean, yes, it’s dated, but the whole _point_ is that’s it’s like a snapshot of what his life was like at the time! He wasn’t out to write the next Great American Novel-”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Omega mutters, “Finish that sentence with ‘it just sort of happened’.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” she says sweetly. “Everyone knows the last Great American Novel was The Grapes of Wrath.” 

He knows her well enough to know when she’s fucking with him. Well, mostly. She sees his lip twitch, adds it to her list of Omega Smiles she has going in her head. Tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. 

“Get out.” 

“Make me.” 

He sighs, dropping his arm to meet her gaze, and finally gives in to the smallest of grins. “At least give me my cat back.” 

As if on command, Dewey stretches once more in Anya’s lap before flopping six inches over into Omega’s. He scratches the fur behind his ears thoughtfully, then snorts as Dewey flops onto his back. 

Then his shoulders stiffen, his eyes lighting up blue as he turns to look at her coffee. “That sme- Anya. Coffee is meant to be _brown_. What did you _do_?” 

She lifts the mug to his face and he recoils as if she’s offered him a decaying rodent. “Made it yummy.” 

He blinks at her slowly, horrified, perhaps slightly betrayed. “You commandeer my bookshop, steal my cat, and _destroy_ my coffee? Do you have any idea how long it takes to perfect that?” 

“Took me about twenty seconds and a bottle of International Delight to perfect mine.” 

“I’m going to ban you from this store.” 

“And then what would you do with your afternoons?” She asks, her head tilted to the side, her bottom lip between her teeth. His gaze lingers on her mouth for just a beat too long before he turns back to the cat in his lap. 

“Touche.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am cloaking myself in this au and you will pry it from my cold dead hands. the result of an 8 and 10 minute sprint i stitched together. also the Discord has decided that omega basically has a breaking-bad esque set up for perfect coffee, it's a whole system, and he only makes it for the very few customers he enjoys. and anya, always.


	8. Hardtack: Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya and Omega keep going out to dinners (they aren't dates) to continue their bickering (which isn't flirting) after bookstore hours, and now Omega accidentally has taste buds. He's not happy with the development.

She picks up on the second ring. It doesn’t mean anything, because she’s the responsible sort and she probably picks up all calls on the first few rings. 

“Hello?” 

Her voice is soft and a little rough and warm. It doesn’t do anything to him. 

“Did I wake you?” 

“No,” she yawns, and he can hear the rustle of a bedspread moving, wonders what color it is, if she sleeps on her back or on her side, if she snores. “Okay, well, yes,” she amends, “but I should be up anyway. It’s- damn it! I napped for three hours!” 

“Is that not an acceptable time to nap?” He leans against his counter, distracted. “I was under the impression you didn’t work today.” He automatically memorizes schedules. It’s the way his mind works, makes patterns out of every day occurrences. It’s certainly not on purpose. 

“I _don’t_ , and I wasted it sleeping! God, I’m so lazy,” she mutters, and yawns again, quieter this time. “Anyway. Sorry. Still baking.” 

“Baking?”

“You know….landing. Waking up. My brain isn’t all there yet.” _Baking_. He laughs freely at that one, his gaze automatically traveling upward. 

“The implication that you’re ever in full control of your faculties is a weighty one.” 

“The implication that you’re a productive member of society is a weighty one. You just suggested sleeping for more than three hours during the day is a normal experience. I’m awake enough to know that is concerning. My computer,” she adds, her voice taking on more life by the moment, “Takes only two hours to fully charge. I guess that means Macs are more advanced than you.” 

He snorts, wishing she was with him so he could watch her face, the way her eyes flashed when she was teasing, the crinkle at the corners, the dimple in her chin. “If you _must_ take the low-hanging fruit- which you couldn't reach if you tried, by the way-”

  
“Short jokes? Really? I should have just slept.” 

“I’d prefer to be compared to HP. _Apple_ , Anya? My brain would overheat in roughly 2.5 seconds.” 

“You should take it as a compliment. Apple is much prettier.” 

He’s not supposed to be doing this. He is _very_ _much_ not supposed to be doing this. 

He called for a reason. 

“Actually, I called for a purpose,” he says, his voice returning to the monotone that left no room for argument (or _flirting_ ). “You’ve ruined me. Do you realize how convenient it is not to have a specific taste palette?” 

Anya laughs through the phone, a full, deep throated laugh, and he knows just how much her eyes must be sparkling and resolutely does not linger upon it. “Oh? Boiled chicken finally not working for you?”

“I used to save so much time and energy,” he sighs, poking the floating grey mass. “Cooking was simple and efficient. And I’m afraid I don’t have anything to make what I’m currently looking at any better.” 

“Really, Omega, you could have just invited me over,” she says, a laugh still lingering on the edges of her voice. “I’ll bring garlic powder. And onion. Maybe get wild and a little _paprika_. You do know what paprika is, don’t you?” 

He should say no. 

“Please do. I haven’t eaten since this morning and I am very possibly growing afraid of whatever I’ve just made.” 

Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *omega voice* actually, denial is not a river in egypt. you're thinking of the nile. denial is a word that i am very much not doing in any capacity.


	9. Scenes From a Local Book Store, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega likes his rules. He just likes Anya more. (Maybe).

It’s well past 5 PM. 

Omega operates on a series of rules, regulations, and conditions that he does his utmost to force into agreement with one another. The world is, at times, extraordinarily messy; so much dependent on w _e’ll see how it goes’_ and _let’s wing it_ and _it’s just not my vibe,_ whatever that means. Humans, he thinks, are simply walking disasters, responding to stimuli and emotion without second thought.

And it’s as if his mind is a confluence of shifting gears and constantly crossing and uncrossing wires, an endless Rubix cube that resets daily, regularly grows and loses rows, and has no set solution. 

It’s not particularly pleasant for him, either. 

So he follows rules, carefully created in childhood to ensure the easiest form of passage through the human world. He’s precise. Articulate. Specific and observant, silent when he needs to be, polite when he can’t. His mother claims he’s the most human of them all, as if this was a great triumph, and sometimes he worries that he is, worries that his heart is just as fickle and fluid as humans are, worries he feels too much and cares too little. But he’s _not_ like them either, not enough to truly fit in.

So he follows his rules. He opens his book store at 9 AM on weekdays and closes at 5 PM. He pays his clerks every Tuesday at 4 PM. Earnest is fed at 8 AM and 6 PM, and he takes a break at noon to drink his second cup of coffee and indulge in whatever nonfiction he’s picked up recently. 

(This afternoon, it’s yet another World War II book, composed of letters and stories from the humans that lived it. It’s fascinating, though he knows he’s likely the only of his siblings to think so. Something about the words of the dead rattle him. Maybe it’s that humans always seem so alive, burning and writhing and screaming, even when long gone). 

And yet it is well past 5 PM. And he has not left his shop.

  
Instead, he is huddled with the pretty nurse he is very consciously refusing to feel anything for, and she is making possibly the most ridiculous argument for the Bronte sisters he’s ever heard in his life. 

“Okay, let’s pretend that Jane Eyre isn’t some kind of psy-op that’s meant to brainwash women into living the most boring lives they possible can muster,” she’s saying, her hands in the air in that _maddening_ way of hers, her nose crinkled in annoyance. 

He ignores her freckles and the way they bunch and dance along her expressions. 

“No, you’re right,” he says dryly. “I think the KGB was involved, actually. Their newest form of torture is playing Jane Austen on repeat, so I suppose-” 

“Okay, you really can’t tell me the Bronte sisters have merit and then come for Jane Austen. That’s like saying _oh, Anya, let’s not criticize Hemingway too roughly, by the way, have you heard F. Scott Fitzgerald?_ ” 

“You’re absolutely incorrigible. I don’t mind Hemingway, actually.” 

She pauses, stares. 

“ _Please_ do not tell me you named poor Dewey after him.” 

Omega’s mouth twitches, despite himself. 

“Will you leave him alone if I do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sprint: 285+ words in 19 minutes. am i persnaps letting a little of my autistic experience (tm) sneak into writing androids? maybe. i don't know. shut up


End file.
